


It's Not Much But It's Something

by lostinwriting23



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau pines a lot too, Cuddles, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic tactile idiots, Spoilers Episode 87, They're all real upset, it's about the found family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinwriting23/pseuds/lostinwriting23
Summary: "They’re offered three separate rooms, but when they all arrive at the Cabin and Fjord leads the way into one of the rooms, no one veers off towards any of the other doors. By the time their guards notice, Yasha shuts the door with such finality, they dare not question it."
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Caduceus Clay & Fjord & Jester Lavorre & Beauregard Lionett & Nott & Caleb Widogast & Yasha, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 17
Kudos: 423





	It's Not Much But It's Something

**Author's Note:**

> Well good lord was 87 A LOT. So good. Having lots of feelings. And then I wrote this on my phone at midnight. And I love a good cuddle, as if you couldn't tell already, so here we are. Let me know what you think!  
> Hope your weekend is beautiful!  
> <3,  
> M

They’re offered three separate rooms, but when they all arrive at the Cabin and Fjord leads the way into one of the rooms, no one veers off towards any of the other doors. By the time their guards notice, Yasha shuts the door with such finality, they dare not question it. Caleb is still in the middle of the group, Nott’s hand clenched at one side, the other pulled onto Beau’s shoulder as she walks ahead of him with Jester pressing her shoulder to his. Everyone is shaking and it has nothing to do with being drenched to the bone.

The room itself is fairly spare, three beds with thin mattresses set at the opposite wall, a table with two chairs and a heavy brass lamp the only so-called décor. There’s already a fire lit in the corner, burning a little low, but a murmured word from Jester and it flairs a bit higher, warmth wafting across the room. There’s silence but for their ragged breathing (Beau doesn’t think they’ve stopped gasping for air since the goddamn purple worm) and the soft _drip, drip_ of water from the ends of their clothes and hair. Their cluster stands froze in the center of the room, too exhausted to move but too wired to sit.

“Caleb, where’s Frumpkin?” Caduceus’ voice is trembling as much as his fingers as he reaches to touch Caleb’s back.

On autopilot, the wizard’s fingers click around Nott’s hand and the fae-cat appears around his neck and immediately begins to purr, nuzzling his face up to Caleb’s ear. Yasha gasps quietly from the back and reaches out a hand before she can overthink it. The cat chirps in excitement to see her and gives her hand an affectionate nip and head-butt before returning his attention to Caleb.

Finally, they start to disperse. Fjord goes to check the window and Caduceus mutters something about ‘we need some tea’ and putters off toward the fire. Caleb follows, a little numbly but lets Nott guide him into one of the chairs.

Beau blows out a sigh, swaying a little on the spot. Fuck. Today was… technically a pretty fucking killer victory but today was also… _fuuuuuck,_ she thinks to herself, examining her until-recently new robes, now spattered in blood and gore and sliced open right down the middle. She’d seen Yasha standing above her, sword raised high, streaming tears and trapped. Had watched, almost as if from outside herself, as the blade came down and sank deep into her chest. _Too much, too familiar, it’s not her_ _fault_ and the tattoo burns on the back of her neck as she thinks about-

Across the room, there’s a small flurry of movement. Caleb’s nails are reaching for the scars on his opposite arms but Nott darts to grabs one hand and Cad takes the other, tea momentarily forgotten, and they gently pull him away from himself. Frumpkin jumps down into Caleb’s lap as a physical barrier for crossing mid-line, still purring. Fjord kneels down in front of him, producing a waterskin from his belt and holding it out for Caleb to take. He doesn’t let go of either hand but uses the back of them to hold onto the waterskin and Fjord helps him tip it up gently into his mouth.

Jester’s arms are looped around her own waist as her eyes flit from person to person, far enough back that she can see everyone without turning her head. There are smears of dried blood under her nose, across her cheeks and forehead, over her shoulder. It’s a lot. _So much._ Too _much. Fuck._ The Traveler’s symbol is still conspicuous in its absence around her waist even as one hand gropes for it. Her eyes look haunted and she’s chewing on her lip. There’s blood but Beau can’t tell if it’s old or new. She blinks hard and looks away from the tiefling’s lips. _Stop it._

“You okay, Jessie?” And promptly kicks herself because _of course she’s not okay, dumbass. Who the fuck among us is ‘okay’ right now?_

Jester starts at being addressed directly and she hoists a passable smile onto her face, “Oh. Yeah! I’m fine!” Her eyes are sparkling. It’s a lie. Obviously. Not as good as her usual ones either. Beau swallows hard and she just watches and waits until-

“I’m just-” her voice drops a little bit, like she knows that Beau isn’t buying any of it, “I’m really glad you’re not dead. I mean, obviously, I’m glad none of us are dead but.” She stops again chewing on her lip more and Beau has to clench her hands until her knuckles ache to keep herself from reaching out to try to stop her.

“I’m so sorry, Beau,” Jester croaks, “Yasha carried you away from danger and I was coming to heal you but I wanted the Obann thing to be dead so bad and he looked really hurt so I attacked him again. But you were bleeding out and then I got knocked out too,” ( _Don’t remind me._ ), “And I’m _the cleric_ , I’m supposed to heal you and stop you from getting hurt more and- And I didn’t even hurt it, I was just so scared and I missed-”

An act of the Gods themselves couldn’t have stop Beau from pulling Jester into a hug, letting the tiefling tuck her head against Beau’s neck and suck in a shuddering breath, “No, hush. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.” And Beau tries not to think about Jester’s unconscious body next to hers on the floor, of both of them bleeding out, of Yasha carrying her away. _No, no. Nope._ She swallows down a lump in her throat again.

Over Jester’s shoulder, Beau watches Yasha. She’s drifted across the room to lean against the wall nearest the window. Outside the storm still pours and thunder and lightning split the sky but she’s watching the two of them with something fragile behind her eyes that makes Beau’s ribs ache almost as much as when she was stabbed. Before she knows what she’s doing, Beau’s reaching out a hand toward Yasha. The taller woman stares at it like she doesn’t believe it’s there, stares for so long that Beau almost pulls away, feeling stupid and embarrassed and rejected but then Jester shudders in her arms. Yasha’s eyes track the tremors and a huge, warm hand slides over Beaus as Yasha steps in until her front of pressed against Jester. Jester doesn’t even look up, she just reaches up and takes Yasha’s other hand behind her.

There’s a rustling behind Yasha and Frumpkin leaps up onto her shoulder. Yasha flinches hard and then closes her eyes, inhaling slowly through her nose as the fae-cat bumps his forehead into her temple.

“Hello,” she murmurs low, bringing the hand Jester is hanging onto up to scritch under his chin. Frumpkin purrs louder, eyes opening to reveal the pale blue that only appears when Caleb is watching.

“Caleb,” Beau coughs, “come over here, you idiot. Don’t just send the fucking cat.” And she congratulates herself on the short, wet chuckle from the wizard across the room.

There’s the creak of floorboards behind them but Beau doesn’t bother to turn around, letting herself enjoy the contact and the view of Yasha nose to nose with Frumpkin. Eventually she senses a presence behind her and Cad comes into her peripheral vision. They’re quiet again, tucked back up in a knot at the center of the room. Caduceus’ kettle begins to sputter out a whistle and with a wave of his hand, Caduceus dismisses the flames down into low embers but makes no move to do anything more.

From the center of the circles, Beau mutters, “You guys know I was lying about using you, right? I only said that to… You guys are more than-” the word sticks in her throat and she tries not to choke around it because this is the first time she’s had it, _really_ had it and –

“We know,” Caduceus hums softly and she’s so fucking grateful she could cry (but she won’t. _Of course_ she won’t.) Jester squeezes her around the waist and Yasha re-doubles her grip on her hand.

“And you guys know we won’t,” ( _I won’t),_ “Let anything happen to you. Never again,” the words gum her throat like molasses because _it’s too much. Too vulnerable. Abort, abort, abort._ She looks up, trying to dispel some of her own anxiety about it but meets Yasha’s two toned eyes, fractured and too full. _Oh Yasha._ A tear drips off her eyelashes and she turns away, dropping her face between Jester’s horns and Beau is both relieved and somehow more upset.

To Beau’s right, Caleb shudders harder ( _distraction_ ) and Beau turns instead to face him. He’s closer than she’s expecting. Closer than he had been earlier, the side of her robes fisted in one hand, the other limp at his side, eyes squeezed shut tight, breath coming in sharp bursts, a sheen of sweat on his neck. Fjord is at his back, keeping him upright, clenching his jaw tight, Jester’s hand like a vice around one of his wrists behind Beau’s back. She can feel Fjord’s knuckles brush her spine when Jester pulls him even closer in. Nott is hanging on to Caleb’s knees, one hand clawed into the hem of Jester’s dress, boxed in on the other side by Caduceus, whose long arms are reaching from around Fjord’s shoulder on one side and resting in the middle of Yasha’s back on the other. The wizard trembles on.

Beau tips her head forward, knocked her forehead into his. She already has a pounding headache from almost fucking dying ( _again_ ) and the jostle jolts distantly but it doesn’t matter.

“Any of you,” she continues quietly, “Especially you, _Caleb_.” The parallel isn’t lost on any of them. It was unintentional but out of Beau’s mouth before her brain can catch up.

There’s stillness and silence for a while until, jerkily, Caleb nods. He takes a deep heaving breath. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Beau rotates her head, not breaking contact with Caleb but enough to catch a glint of Yasha’s eyes above Jester’s hair, “And especially you too, Yasha.” Because _fuck,_ is it good to have her back. And fuck if Beau isn’t absolutely terrified of losing her, him, any of them, again. Yasha has to know. _Please,_ please, _don’t run away. Not again. Not anymore._

“You got that?” Jester pipes up quietly. Beau glances down as Jester cranes her head back to see Yasha’s face as several different emotions flash across it in quick succession: guilt, heartbreak, anger, fear and then, at the tail end of it, just a little bit of hope.

She swallows hard, another tear slowly creeping out of the corner of her purple eye.

“Got it.”

XXX

Slowly, their group breaks apart and scatters around the room again. Caleb’s knees give out and, after a minor commotion about it (he’s just exhausted and overwhelmed and about a thousand other things. _That’s fair_ , Beau thinks, eyeing Yasha and wondering if they should be worried about her collapsing too.), he settles on the floor. Nott stands behind him with her head on his shoulder, not doing much more than running her fingers through his hair.

Fjord squeezes the back of Beau’s neck (her tattoo is mostly healed and the contact is familiar even though it’s not something he’s ever done) and lets Jester’s hand slowly slide from his wrist as he passes, moving toward the three beds. Caduceus is already at one, tugging the mattress down onto the floor.

“When I was a child,” he begins by way of explanation, “And we weren’t fighting, my siblings and I used to make big nests in the middle of the floor and sleep there all together during storms.” He doesn’t say anything else but Beau watches his throat bob and remembers his conversation with the Gentleman and Fjord must see it too because he grabs one of the other mattresses and pulls it down as well. With a glance at Yasha, he positions it directly under the window and Cad butts the other one up against it. Yasha squeezes both Beau and Jester one last time before detangling herself from them to grab the last mattress and lay it length wise along the tops of the other two, Frumpkin still sitting around her shoulders.

Beau starts to move to go help too but Jester is still wrapped securely around her middle. Her eyes are closed and she’s taking deliberate deep breaths, pressing her cheek to Beau’s collarbone. No meditation or stilling of her mind could save Beau from the swell of affection bubbling in her chest but, damn, does she try to tamp it down.

Beau can _feel_ Nott’s eyes boring a hole in the side of her face and there’s warmth creeping up her neck and building in her ears and she will _not_ be looking in the direction of the goblin. Luckily, Jester is too tucked up and exhausted to notice the staring. Beau subtly flips Nott the bird and judging by the scoff of offense, she sees it.

“Jes,” Beau rubs gently on Jester’s back until she sees the flutter of Jester’s eyelashes that she’s pretty sure means her eyes are at least open, “Do you want… Let’s go sit, yeah?”

There’s a pause, Jester continues leaning heavily on her and Beau continues to count to 100 in every language she knows to keep a handle on her hammering heart. Then Jester nods and takes her own weight again, slowly ( _Is she lingering? No, shut up, she’s tired. She’s tired and you’re her friend and shut up.)_ letting her arms drop from around Beau’s waist.

“You should rest too,” She murmurs, eyes still downcast.

“I will,” Beau promises, (as if she could do anything else when Jester asks), “I’m just getting the wizard.” She reaches under his armpits and hoists Caleb to his feet.

“Come on, man, bed time for the Nein.” The ghost of a smile twitches across Caleb’s mouth and he lets her half-carry him over to the mattresses. She complains the whole way, just to keep up appearances. She’s pretty sure he knows that.

Cad eventually brings them tea and they all clamber onto the “nest” (as Caduceus calls it), sipping tea quietly, updating Yasha on little things she missed and violently steering away from any topic that has to do with any of the rest of the day. Needless to say it’s a little awkward and a lot cramped, but really it’s not _that_ much smaller than the hut usually is and having everyone close is actually pretty comforting after the day they’ve had.

And maybe Yasha doesn’t sleep, just stays propped next to the window, staring out at the storm. And Caleb twitches and whimpers from nightmares for most of the night. And Jester cries when she thinks no one is paying attention (but they all know and somehow, they’ve all got a point of contact with her) but at least they’re together.


End file.
